


Begin.

by dondengaeshi



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Supernatural Elements, Unhealthy Relationships, i thought super hard about the dynamics between everyone here i def want to expand on this au later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dondengaeshi/pseuds/dondengaeshi
Summary: The Home is a refuge for people who, for the benefit of society and themselves, should live separately from others. It's here that Ten meets Taeyong.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	Begin.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Second Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7493427) by [hoshatree (marchmain)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchmain/pseuds/hoshatree). 



> unbeta'd

It's less of a dormitory and more of a villa, Ten thinks, as their van pulls up to the building. Judging by the surrounding orchard that looks like its on its way to abandoned, the 'dormitory' is nothing more than a repurposed farm house; a really fucking big one. He followed his guide to the front door—they entered without knocking. 

The first thing they come to is the living room. It's clean, with a flat screen on one end and an L shaped couch on the other. Two people are lounging, one on their phone, and the other turned inward towards the couch cushions, so Ten can only see their back. The person on the phone looks up as the door closes behind them.

"Taeil!" he shouts, sitting up. He crosses his legs neatly, and Ten can already tell he's probably a giant. He turns to look at Ten. "Who's this?" 

The guide—Taeil, he supposes—puts a hand on his shoulder and gentler ushers him forward. "This is Ten. He'll be staying with you from now on."

"Oh!" the man on the couch cries. He stands quickly and bows his greeting. He's wearing a bright smile, and it's sort of unnerving. It's far too sincere from what Ten experiences during his hospital stay. "I'm Lucas. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," Ten echoes quietly, returning the bow. Taeil clears his throat loudly.

"Doyoung, be polite." he says. The man on the couch with his back turned to them shifts.

"I'm asleep."

"I'm sure you are. Come greet your new roommate." 

Doyoung turns around then, letting a limp arm flop over the side of the couch bearing a peace sign.

"I'm Doyoung. I'm asleep. Please enjoy your stay here at Reject Inn." Taeil's face darkens, but Ten has to suppress his laughter. Lucas and Doyoung seem interesting enough. 

"This is not a  _ reject inn, _ Doyoung," Taeil says firmly, although it's obvious he says it more for Ten's sake than as a reprimand. "You don't seem to be doing anything of import, in fact. Why don't you show Ten around the home while you're free? I only had time to escort Ten before I have to return to the facility." It's phrased as a request, but he's already moving towards the door and wishing Ten a good rest of his evening before he's gone, the crunch of tire on gravel fading into the distance. 

Ten feels sort of awkward standing in the middle of the living room with his duffel bag waiting for something to happen. Doyoung's eyes are already closed again, and Lucas seems just as expectant as Ten. Suddenly it clicks that Doyoung isn't going to be doing anything he was told, so Lucas jumps up to take his bag and offers to show him to his room. 

"Is he rooming with Taeyong?" Doyoung asks, eyes still closed. 

"I guess so," Lucas says. "What, are you offering to trade?" 

" _ Hell _ no. And shove off, I can give a better tour than you can. Just, like, give me a couple minutes," 

Lucas is already walking off into a new hall as Doyoung finishes his sentence, and Ten jogs a few paces to catch up. "Whatever you say, couch potato,"

His room is at the very end of the hall, seemingly isolated from the rest of the house. Ten gets the impression of a dragon's den, but doesn't comment. Lucas knocks twice on the plain white door before entering. The room isn't messy, but it's not particularly neat, either. It looks very lived in, with books, pencils, and scrap paper with half-finished drawings strewn about the desk in one corner and occasionally on the floor. In contrast, the beds are neatly made and the clothes hanging in the closet are organized by color and type. If his roommate is both organized and creative, Ten thinks they'll get along well. 

"Looks like Taeyong went out somewhere," Lucas says. He tosses his duffel bag onto the top bunk as Ten takes a seat on the bottom. 

"Taeyong will blow a casket if he catches you sitting there," Doyoung says from the doorframe. His hair is disheveled and he still looks half asleep, but Ten supposes he's making an effort at least. 

"Does Taeyong even know he's going to be sharing his room now?" Doyoung continues. He's looking around the room with veiled distaste. Ten can tell he's hesitant to come in. A knot of tension starts to form in his chest. There's obviously conflict between Taeyong and the other members.

"I have no idea." Lucas says. "But it's not like he hasn't had a roommate before. He's not that volatile."  _ Ah, so he's volatile, but not _ that  _ volatile, _ Ten thinks bitterly.  _ This will be fun.  _

Doyoung makes no remark as they exit the room. Apart from general living facilities, the villa comes equipped with dance and art studios, a pool, and a gym. Lucas lets him know that there are bikes tied up behind the house along with some gardening tools, should he feel so inclined to use them. They end up back at the living room at the end of the tour.

"Thus concludes the Tour de Inn Rejects," he concludes with a bad French accent. "Any questions?"

Ten thinks for a moment. "How many people live here?" There were two other rooms, but both of them showed signs of multiple people living in there. Doyoung and Lucas didn't have their rooms to themselves like Taeyong apparently did, until now. 

"Six, now, from today," Lucas answers excitedly. "You haven't met Winwin and Johnny yet." 

"Winwin," Ten repeats, with a bolded question mark at the end.

"His name is Sicheng," Doyoung explains with feigned exasperation. "Lucas calls him Winwin." There's a  _ why _ left hanging in the air that Ten doesn't acknowledge, and Lucas doesn't elaborate. He nods and moves to sit (read: sprawl) onto the couch and shuts his eyes. 

"So, what actually happens here?" Ten asks. When there's no answer, he opens one eye and sees Lucas and Doyoung glancing at eachother questioningly. 

"Taeil didn't tell you anything?" Lucas asks slowly. 

Ten thinks back to it. Taeil had picked him up from the airport and had the taxi take them straight here. The Company Representative, as Taeil referred to the man dressed in all black that had frequently visited him in the hospital, had managed to sell him on the beta rehabilitation program they were fostering in South Korea. Ten wonders just how much they had paid his university to put his degree on hold for six months. 

"I don't need rehabilitation," Ten had said. "It's just an eye complication. I'll be fine in a few weeks." 

"The Company manager scouted you, specifically. He believes you will be a great benefit to the program." 

Of course, the contract's fine print detailed the inability to drop out of the rehabiliation for any purpose, no outside technology except for what the Company provided, a ban on discussion of the program to anyone on 'the outside' during the course of the program, and his confinement to the rehabiliation home's grounds, but those were all manageable, he had thought.

He just had to get out of Thailand.

"They called it rehabilitation," Ten tells them. "To be honest, I didn't look into it as much as I should have. Probably still loopy on whatever the hospital gave me when I signed the contract." The attempt at a joke garners a small smile from Lucas and nothing else.

"I guess you could call it rehab." Doyoung accedes reluctantly. "Mostly we just sort of...hang out here. Once in a while represenatives from the Company come and do check-ups on us—make sure we're still alive and that kind of thing." 

"They usually have us do things—like tests," Lucas chimes in. "We had to run laps around the orchard last time. Or solve puzzles."

"The puzzles were fun," Doyoung says, eyes glazing over at a fond memory. "But yeah. Sometimes they just sit down and talk to us, ask us how we're feeling, and stuff like that." 

"That seems way too relaxed," Ten says bluntly, hoping his suspicion is clear. 

"I thought that too. But...it'll start to make sense as time goes on." Lucas says. Ten quirks an eyebrow. 

"So part of this is figuring out what's what on my own," he concludes. Neither of them confirm or deny. 

"Please don't be nervous," Lucas says, and he's smiling again now, but theres a nervous quirk in his brow. "Really—nothing bad happens here. It's just...a unique kind of rehab. It's new. Taeil says we're the guinea pigs."

"Calling him a guinea pig is going to make him nervous, Lucas." Doyoung quips.

"Well I can call  _ you _ worse things, if that's what you want." 

"You guys are funny," Ten says before they start throwing things at each other. "I'm sure I'll be fine. Thank you for being so welcoming." 

"Anytime!" Lucas says brightly, and god  _ damn, _ is he a ray of sunshine. The smile he gives in return is genuine. Doyoung nods and goes back to napping on the couch—or staring holes into the back cushions, possibly. 

//

Ten wakes up some time later in the afternoon, cheek smushed into one of the couch pillows. He tries to work out the kink in his back before standing to go to the kitchen. 

He almost jumps backwards when he sees a body on the floor blocking his path, leaning against the island with legs stretched fully to the other wall. Its face is covered by a large hoodie, chin touching chest, hands folded unnervingly in its lap. Ten stares for a solid fifteen seconds before noticing the rise and fall of its chest. Cool. Good to know this isn't a murder mystery after all.

"...Hello?" he says, tilting his head to get a better look at the face. He fails, but the person does lift his head slowly to look at him. 

"Hello," He greets. He stares at Ten for several long moments before coming to a conclusion. "Who are you? I don't think we've met before."

"I-I'm Ten," he introduces, still somewhat shaken at the not-corpse. "I'm new here. To the program."

"Ah." He stands then, carefully, and bows a short greeting. "I'm Johnny. Nice to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you," Ten returns. "Can I ask why you were asleep on the kitchen floor?" 

"What will you do if I say no?" Johnny asks with a mischevious smile, and Ten decides he likes the way his eyes crinkle up with his cheeks. He lets himself relax a little. 

"I guess it'll remain a mystery unsolved, then," Ten answers. 

"I think the others would say a 'mystery unsolved' describes me pretty well." Johnny stretches then and seems to wake up a little more. "Have the others shown you around yet? You must have just gotten in recently." 

"Yeah, Doyoung and Lucas gave me a tour of the home. I haven't really been around outside, though. I got in a few hours ago." Ten absently wonders where the hell Johnny was during the tour; he hadn't been in any of the rooms, and the house wasn't  _ that _ big. 

"Oh, the surrounding area's pretty alright. It's a lot of grass if you're into that. Lucas spends a lot of time out there if you're interested. He's good company." 

"Grass is nice. But I imagine the house feels cramped easily with six people." Johnny hums in agreement. 

"We make it work, I guess." Suddenly drowsiness overtakes his countenance again, and he struggles to stifle a large yawn. 

"I'll let you move on, then. I didn't mean to keep you. You'll like it here at the home." With that Johnny all but stumbled out of the kitchen, to what Ten hopes is his own bed and not the middle of the hall or something. 

Johnny. What an interesting fellow.

Ten retreats to his room this time, newly equipped with a glass of water. He opens the door without knocking, and is surprised to see someone standing over the desk, rearranging the papers into a neat stack. He suddenly turns around and Ten is momentarily shocked at the intensity of his gaze. 

"You're the new one," he says more than asks. Ten nods.

"I'm Ten. You're Taeyong, I'm assuming?" The other man regards him with furrowed brows. He doesn't acknowledge his question.

"Where are you from?" 

"Thailand," Ten answers after a surprised pause. "Is it obvious I'm not from around here?"

"You have an accent," The stranger says, and turns back to organizing the desk. Right. Ten can't remember the last time someone commented on his accent; he assumed it had mostly disappeared. Good to know. 

Ten stands there for a few moments, unsure of where to go from here, before deciding Taeyong probably isn't worth engaging anyway. He climbs up to his bunk to lie down. 

"There's a spare dresser for you by the desk for your clothes. Don't touch my things, please." Is the only other thing Taeyong says to him for the rest of the night. 

Taeyong is gone when he wakes up the next morning, his bed perfectly made. Ten unpacks his duffel bag and enjoys the complete silence of the house. Once it's been emptied, he makes his way to the dance studio. There was a door Doyoung had skipped over, whether it was purposefully or not he doesn't know. He makes sure nobody is around before pulling open the double doors.

Instruments. Mostly different flavors of guitar, but there's a marimba that takes up most of the room's space and violins and violas hung on stands. Brass instruments organized by size are hung on the wall and he really wonders why Doyoung made no mention of this. He runs a finger over the trombone closest to him and marvels at the layer of dust coating it—why have so many instruments if nobody uses them?

Suddenly in the corner of his eye he spots an acoustic guitar. It's honey yellow with red marble accents. He steps carefully so as to not knock anything over and reaches out to it, but then there's a voice stopping him.

"I wouldn't touch that one." 

_ Thank god it's just Lucas, _ Ten thinks. He doesn't know why that's a relief.

"Why?"

"It's Taeyong's. He doesn't keep it in his room because he didn't want it to feel too cluttered." 

It's the only acoustic Ten can pick out in the room, and he sighs dejectedly. He can't play any of the other instruments. Lucas is wringing his hands, but still smiling.

"If you're bored, me and Winwin were going on a walk. You should come with us. I just came here to grab his bag."

It's hot outside, but neither Lucas nor Sicheng seem to mind.  _ Sicheng. _ The name sounds nice on his tongue and he hadn't objected to it in favor of Winwin. Ten walks in step beside them through the orchard. He nearly trips several times as they wade through tall grass and overgrown bushes, however Lucas and Sicheng seem to have no problem navigating the terrain. He wonders how long they've been at the home to have the land as well memorized as they do. 

Lucas has a lot to share about the orchard, mostly memories, but also some interesting (depending on who you're talking to) anecdotes about the flora. (Did you know that this bush is only found in China? I think this farm used to be owned by a Chinese family. I always saw them on the way to school back in Hong-Kong.) (This tree is the best for apples when it's in season.) (One time, WinWin and I sat in this clearing and talked for an entire day. They thought we had run away!) WinWin doesn't say anything, just nods along and stares fondly at Lucas' profile while he talks. Occasionally he'll tap Lucas' shoulder and point at something, which Lucas will then rant about, but for the most part he just listens and picks apples from the ground, storing them in his backpack. 

At the edge of the orchard is a thin stream flowing with clear water. Clouds are reflected on its surface, drifting much more serenely across the sky, white like cotton balls. Ten crouches and dips his hand in, distorting the image. He rests his palm flat on the layer of sediment beneath the water. It's cold. 

Behind him he hears Lucas collapse dramatically onto the grass with a grunt, but when he looks back his face is painted with contentedness. His smile is still warm as day. Sicheng sits beside him more carefully, lowering himself into a heel sit in one smooth motion. He opens his bag and offers apples to Ten and Lucas, both of which they graciously accept.

Drying his hand on his pants, he moves to lay on his back beside them and watch the sky. He's almost drifting off to sleep when there's motion at the corner of his eye. 

"Ten? No, I don't know." 

He cranes his neck to see Sicheng signing at Lucas. His hands form words so fluidly, for a moment he just watches in awe. 

"Ten, WinWin wants to know why you're here. Ow!" Sicheng delivers a hard slap to his shoulder then, and Ten laughs. Lucas must be an unreliable translator.

"I don't know. A Company representative just came to me in the hospital and invited me here. But...I don't know why. It seems like you have to be special to come here, but I'm—I'm not special," 

Sicheng signs something else. 

"WinWin says he's glad you're nice, anyway." Then he cranes his neck to look at Sicheng. "Am I not nice enough for you?" 

Sicheng shakes his head and smiles. Lucas pouts. 

Before the conversation lulls into silence, Ten speaks up. 

"You're mute, Sicheng?" Sicheng gets an unsure look on his face. He raises his hands to sign something, but Lucas speaks for him.

"For the most part. He's quiet." 

_ Selective mutism? _ Ten thinks, but doesn't push. 

They return to the villa before they get sunburned, and Ten feels really, really good. He wonders if Thailand was so bad that he can't remember the last time he felt this... _ good. _ Maybe he needed rehabilitation after all.

//

They find Doyoung cooking when they get back. Dumplings.

They gather in the living room to eat and chat, Doyoung, Johnny, and Lucas playing MK8 while Sicheng dozes (Ten has no clue how he can sleep with the living room's volume, but it's a skill he wishes he had.) 

This is only his second time seeing Johnny, so he takes his time to observe. He's the picture perfect definition of composed, maybe even relaxed as he pulls off flawless drifts around the merciless turns on Rainbow Road, not even twitching a brow. Still, Ten can tell his focus is resolute. He's hardly even blinking. 

Doyoung on the other hand, is shouting profanities from twelfth place, and Lucas is riling him up from seventh. Doyoung tackles him when the round ends, and Ten takes the opportunity to slip out of the living room with a meek 'I'll be right back,' for anyone who might be listening.

His room is empty, and so is the gym and the dance studio—although he takes note of the door to the instrument room left slightly ajar.

He finds Taeyong in the art studio. He's playing guitar, the same acoustic one he had found earlier, sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the foot of a futon. He looks up sharply at Ten when he comes in. 

"Doyoung made dumplings. They're playing Mario Kart in the living room." He hopes the invitation is clear.

Taeyong looks back to his guitar and plucks a few strings. "I'm okay."

Ten watches him for a few more moments before Taeyong looks back up. 

"What?"

"Can I hear you play?" It definitely wasn't the question on his mind, but he rolls with it.

Taeyong furrows his brow, but sits up straight and positions the guitar in his lap better. Ten takes a seat in front of him—not too close, but he wants to watch his finger movements. 

He plays the first few bars of a song before stopping. It's a playful tune, a complex one. He wants to compliment him, but he  _ has _ to ask first—

"Is that the Nokia ringtone?" 

Taeyong lets out a breath of laughter and smiles, really  _ smiles _ at him; his cheeks puff up and it might be cuter than Lucas' excitability.

"Everyone says that." 

"But am I wrong?"

Taeyong plucks a few notes, the melody Ten recognized. It's absolutely the Nokia ringtone.

"No, you're not wrong." 

Ten scoots a bit closer. "Will you play some more?" 

Taeyong obliges. He runs through the piece perfect enough to sound like a recording, and Ten is genuinely impressed. Taeyong plays some other songs, some with botched chords, others just as flawless as the first. 

"My fingers hurt," he says after some time, setting the guitar down gently on the couch. He rubs at his fingertips absentmindedly, staring at nothing in his lap. Ten wonders if he realizes he's not alone.

"Why don't you spend time with the others?" he asks Taeyong. He looks at Ten from under his eyelashes. Suddenly, something in him snaps.

"Did Lucas put you up to this? Was it Taeil?" he demands angrily. Ten doesn't understand what he said wrong.

"Put me up to what?" 

"To come see me," Taeyong elaborates. Something in him deflates, but the tension is still there. "Why are  _ you _ here, and not with them?" 

"I  _ wanted _ to come see you. I thought you might have been lonely, is all," he answers honestly. Taeyong just keeps staring intensely at him, distrusting. Suddenly he stands, grabbing his guitar. 

"I know when I'm not wanted." And then he's gone. Ten feels bitterness prickling under his skin and tries to brush it off.  _ So much for being friendly.  _

It isn't until later when he's in bed when he realizes Taeyong's parting words were an answer. 

The following afternoon, he hears guitar strumming from the art studio, but the door is locked. 

//

Ten is laying in the grass outside sunbathing when someone's shadow blocks the sun. 

"What are you doing?" Doyoung asks him, hands on his hips.

"Photosynthesizing," he deadpans, but it must have sounded angrier than intended, because Doyoung sits cross legged beside him.

"What's wrong." he asks. 

Ten groans as he sits up, both from the stretch and at the upcoming conversation he doesn't want to have. 

"I pissed off Taeyong and I don't know why and I'm  _ pissed _ that I don't know why," he dumps. He expects Doyoung to tease him, but the look on his face is surprisingly understanding. He leans back, letting the weight of his body fall on the palms of his hands stretched behind him.

"Taeyong is...temperamental, putting it lightly. He's hard to pin down emotionally." 

Ten can sense the history behind those words, but says nothing. 

"You shouldn't take it personally, but Ten,  _ please _ don't try too hard to get close to him. He's going to hurt you." 

"Has he hurt you?" 

Doyoung raises both his eyebrows as if he's surprised, but that's not how Ten would describe his expression. Doyoung elects to not answer. "Just...play it safe, okay?" With that he ups and goes, leaving Ten alone with the blinding sun and the ringing of cicadas. 

//

A week passes without event. He doesn't try to engage Taeyong again, and he's perplexed at how long it takes for the bitterness he felt to vacate the premises. He feels fine by the middle of the week, though, and he's sure a lot of it has to do with spending more time with Lucas and Johnny. 

On Thursday, a familiar black van pulls up to the house and Taeil steps out lithely, carefully. They—Ten, Doyoung, Lucas, and Sicheng—put their soccer antics on hold to greet him.

"You seem to be getting along well," he says, looking at Ten. 

"Oh, you know. They're bearable." At that Doyoung puts him in a chokehold, all but dragging him back into the house while he flails miserably. He releases Ten on the couch, where they all gather. 

"Ten, will you go find Johnny and Taeyong for me?" Taeil requests. He tries to hide it, but he notes something down on his clipboard as he watches Ten leave from the corner of his eye.

Ten finds Johnny asleep on the bathroom floor and is rendered momentarily speechless. He wants to take a picture so he can begin collecting blackmail material, then he remembers that their phones were confiscated. He runs his foot along his spine instead.

"Nnh?" Johnny groans.

"We have company," he answers.

"Nnh." he says.

Taeyong is in their room, hunched over papers at the desk. He doesn't acknowledge anyone entering.

"Taeyong, Taeil is here," he calls from the door entrance. 

Taeyong answers without looking up. "Okay. I'll be there in a moment." 

Ten is a bit nervous about Taeil's announcement, but in the end it just turns out to be a check-up. For the most part it's just like being at the doctor's—they take Ten's height and weight, check his eyes, spine, and blood pressure, the whole shebang. He thinks its over until Taeil brings out several cushions and beckons them all to sit on the floor. Ten, Sicheng, and Johnny sit on the cushions, while Taeyong and Lucas cradle them in their chests. Taeil writes something down on his clipboard at the same time Ten notices.

"Okay, now we're going to be moving into the meditation section of this check up," he says. "Close your eyes and we'll begin." 

They do deep breathing exercises, and then they're asked to focus on their environment; the sounds, vibrations, the smells. Ten can hear the rustle of the abandoned trees and the beat of his own heart, and the rush of blood through his ears—but mostly all he can hear is Taeyong's breathing. It's not harsh or particularly loud, but for whatever reason he can't shift his attention from it. Eventually he relents and just lets the rhythm of his inhales and exhales carry him through the exercise.

Slowly, easing its way into his head with quiet steps, a picture starts to form in Ten's mind. It's a room, dark and suffocating. There's a bed with tangled blankets, a tall window that seems like its asking to be opened, leading into the dark of Seoul. Seoul? Where did that come from? He jumps when he hears people shouting from outside the door, but he's more stunned at the realization of having a body. He can't force his eyes down to see himself. Ten absently focuses on Taeyong's breathing again, for his own sake, but the image continues shifting. 

The door in the room is locked, he doesn't know how he knows. But the shouting is frightening. Each syllable sends a dagger through his chest, and he can't move. Suddenly there's a loud crash from the door and he jumps. He's half aware of a lamp turning on, but he's more focused on the yelling that's grown louder and louder. He can't understand, but it's directed at him. He knows. 

There's hard knocking after the crash, hard enough that the perpetrator's hand must be bruised at the amount of force used. But he's still frozen in place. The light from the lamp is steadily becoming more intense, but he can't tear his eyes from the door. It'll break down any moment. It'll break any moment, and god, he's sweating—when did it get so hot? And so bright? And what of Taeyong, where is he? There's something flickering at the corner of his vision. Fire. It crawls dangerously along the corner of the wall, catching on scattered socks and shirts. He has to find Taeyong, find his breathing.  _ Taeyong? Taeyong? Tae— _

Ten opens his eyes with a gasp. There's a hand on his knee, and Taeil is staring at him intently, brows furrowed and leaning forward as if he's prepared to jump up at any moment. 

"I fell asleep...?" Ten asks, and he's breathless, like he just ran a mile. Maybe he did? He's sweaty, shirt sticking to his skin—

"Ten, please take a moment to relax. You're here, in the home." Taeil's voice breaks through his thoughts, unnervingly steady. 

In through the nose, out through the mouth. One, two. Lucas is by his side, nervous yet comforting gaze trained on him. Johnny is watching him with curiosity, Doyoung just looks confused. Sicheng is holding Lucas' other hand as if he's the one who needs comforting. Ten's lips quirk slightly at the thought. 

Then Taeyong—

Taeyong. 

His eyes are still closed. He's gripping the pillow cushion tightly in his lap, but his face is perfectly serene. Ten takes his wrist and gently tugs it away from the pillow. His eyes fly open and he jerks away, looking at Ten with surprise. His eyebrows are quirked up enough to resemble fear, but it's fear that's dangling precariously above anger.

"What? You—" Taeyong cuts himself off. He doesn't try to speak again, and Ten doesn't know what to say, so he just reaches for Taeyong's wrist again and holds it. Taeyong lets him. 

"I think this check up is over for today, boys. Ten, please stay behind a little longer." Taeil says after some moments of silence. He hadn't asked them to, but everybody else immediately stands to leave. Including Taeyong. He gives Ten one last unreadable glance before disappearing down the hall. 

"Ten, what did you experience during your meditation?" 

What?

Oh. He had been so focused on Taeyong, he had completely forgotten. He grimaces inwardly at the influence Taeyong seems to have over him.

"I don't know. It was like...a memory that wasn't mine." He remembers the room and how cramped it felt, and the window, and the loud crashes from outside the door. He remembers the fire. Ten finds he doesn't want to talk about it. 

But this is rehabilitation, isn't it? 

"There was..." he trails off. Taeil writes something down. The scratch of pen on paper pisses him off, for some reason. 

"You don't have to talk about it if it's difficult, Ten. I'm not here to make you uncomfortable." 

"But isn't this rehabilitation? I'm supposed to address what's wrong so I can fix it."

Taeil adjusts his glasses. "This isn't that kind of rehabilitation. You're free to go." he stands to leave, then pauses at the door. 

"And Ten?  _ We _ can fix it. This is a home, these boys are your family. You're not alone here." Then he's gone.

Ten sits on the floor for some minutes, processing what just happened. Or at least he tries to. He feels disproportionately weary. Looking to his side he finds Taeyong's pillow cushion still on the floor. He takes it as he leaves, and finds burnt fabric in the shape of a hand. 

He finds Taeyong laying down on his bunk, facing the wall. Ten sits on the edge of the bed.

"Are you okay?" he asks. 

"Fine."

"You left your pillow." Taeyong cranes his head to watch him place it at the foot of the bed.

"Thank you."

Ten has nothing to keep the conversation going, but he doesn't want it to end. So he steels himself.

"I want to talk to you, Taeyong." 

Taeyong turns around to face him, propping himself up on his elbows. 

"You were there. In my memories," he speaks before Ten can, and that wasn't what he was expecting at all.

"What?" 

"You came out of your meditation sweating. You were calling my name. I saw you there in the room, with the fire. You were there and not there." 

"You could see me? Why couldn't I see you?" Ten's mind is reeling all over again. Shared memories?

"I don't know. Honestly, I don't even know if I saw you more than I felt you. But it had to be you." 

They're quiet for several moments. 

"You were so scared," Taeyong says quietly. It's not a taunt, just an observation, but if Ten squints he thinks he can hear the sympathy in his voice. Taeyong lets himself slump into the pillows, shutting his eyes, and Ten takes that as a cue that he's done talking. 

_ No, _ Ten thinks.  _ That was _ your  _ fear I felt.  _

//

Ten continues trying to get Taeyong to hang out with the other members more. The first time he invites Taeyong to watch him practice Sm4sh (Doyoung had challenged him, and Ten always loved competition), he was genuinely surprised when he had said sure. Taeyong may not be a conversationalist, but he asks a lot of questions; How do you pull of that combo? What does that item do? Why don't you hold the controller this way so it's easier to reach the buttons? After some time Taeyong picked up a controller and started sparring with him. 

"How are you so bad at this?" Ten had teased, but it was also a genuine question. Taeyong was godawful. 

"I've never played this game before," he says. Ten raises his eyebrows.

"Really? You never wanted to?" 

A beat.

"I wanted to. I am now." 

When Taeyong becomes bored and says he wants to go play guitar, he lets Ten follow him to the art studio and listen to him play. He wonders if Taeyong must be in a particularly good mood today, because the songs he plays are lighthearted, almost gentle. Ten can hardly hide his smiles when Taeyong's lips quirk up after playing out a particularly confusing riff. 

"How long have you been playing guitar?" he asks Taeyong when he's giving his hands a break. He offers the guitar to Ten, who's lightly strumming random chord progressions. 

"I don't remember," he answers without missing a beat. Ten looks up at him.

"You don't remember?"

"No, not really." Then Taeyong grins. "Maybe I've been playing guitar in all my past lives, why I know it so well now." It's sort of a sad joke, Ten thinks, but he wants to indulge Taeyong's smiles, so he laughs along anyway. 

Ten is focused on trying to remember an old riff when Taeyong speaks again.

"Is your name really Ten?" he asks. He's laying on his back now, staring at the ceiling as he talks.

"No. It's Chittapohn." 

"Why Ten?" 

"It was..." Ten stops playing as he actually has to think about it for a moment. "It was an old name my friends gave me. I kept it because it's short." 

"Chittapohn," Taeyong repeats. 

"Please just call me Ten. It's...more familiar to me, now." Taeyong looks at him, a smile playing on his lips, playfulness in his eyes. Ten finds that he likes that look.

"Okay. If that's what you want." 

They pass the rest of their day together in the art studio, never growing tired of the other's company.

//

Ten is starkly aware of Doyoung's disapproval, but he spends most of his time with Taeyong over the next few weeks. He isn't particularly fun to be around, but Ten loves making him smile, being the only one in the home able to make him smile. It's horrible and selfish, but there are worse ways he could be greedy with Taeyong. Nobody else seems to want to be near him, anyway.

And oh, do the others avoid him. He hadn't noticed at first on account of Taeyong's reclusiveness, but the atmosphere really does shift to something uncomfortable when Taeyong enters the room. Ten had thought with both of them it would be okay, but that's never how it turns out. He feels sort of bad about it, but he doesn't think he'll ever  _ not _ prioritize Taeyong. 

Ten is attracted to Taeyong, and not even in the romantic sense—although he wouldn't be surprised if that's the direction their relationship turned. Either way, he can't shake the need to be around him, the loud emptiness he feels when they're not together. He wonders if Taeyong feels the same. 

Regardless, things are going fairly smoothly in the home, until they aren't. 

One day, Ten wakes up to angry voices coming from the living room. Lucas and Sicheng are already poking their heads around the corner to see what's the what, and they're motioning him to stay out of it, which sort of pisses him off. He braces himself and walks into the kitchen to find Taeyong and Doyoung arguing. 

"...I have it there for a reason, Doyoung, I'd appreciate it if you don't move my stuff around without asking." Taeyong's anger is thinly veiled as he confronts Doyoung at the burning stove.

"Taeil asked us to keep the house organized. It's taking up space, and there's a better place for your art supplies than at the poolside." 

"Then you should've just  _ asked _ me to move it!" 

"You don't listen to anything I say anyway! It would've been left out there for weeks for someone to accidentally splash water on it, then you'd be sulking about it forever. Your actions affect other people! Live like a ghost if you want, but don't leave your shit everywhere and not expect others to complain." 

"It's funny you say that when  _ you're _ the only person who ever complains about anything I do,"

Doyoung turns the stove off to face Taeyong fully.

"You might have scared the others into submission, but I can see right through you. You're just an insecure brat who can't handle being told he's  _ wrong."  _

_ " _ Taeyong," Ten says firmly, just as he watches him pull back a fist. He freezes and whips his head back to glare at him. 

"Don't." 

Several expressions cross Taeyong's face before he growls and pushes past him brusquely. He hears the front door open and slam closed. He turns to Doyoung.

"I told you he's dangerous," he says before Ten can open his mouth. He ghosts a hand over his cheek as if feeling where Taeyong would have struck him. Ten has a lot to say, but now isn't the time. He turns on his heel and chases after Taeyong. 

He barely catches a glimpse of his fading red hair through the trees as he runs to catch up. He's walking at a brisk pace, almost a jog at this point, and Ten grabs his wrist to get him to slow down. He jerks away roughly, elbowing Ten in the process. He just barely catches the fear on his face before he starts actually running away from him.

"Wait!" he calls, ignoring the pain in his side as he runs to keep up. 

Taeyong only stops once he's out of breath, collapsing at a particularly gnarly looking tree. Ten drops into the overgrown grass beside him, equally out of breath. He watches Taeyong pull his knees to his chest and stare out into the orchard, brows furrowed. 

"Taeyong, won't you talk to me? Please?" 

Taeyong says nothing. If he really wanted to be alone, he would've done worse to him by now, Ten reasons. So he keeps trying. 

"You'll feel better if you talk."

"I'm not mad at you, okay? I just want to help." 

"You could at least acknowledge me." 

He doesn't budge. Ten sighs. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

He puts on the silliest face he can muster, tugging his eyelids down with both hands, and twists his head in front of Taeyong's line of sight. He flinches with surprise and the lines in his brow deepen. He lifts his head from where they were cradled on his knees.

"You're very cute." 

Ten raises his brows with surprise, but laughs. He sees some of the tension lines in Taeyong's face disappear and counts it as a win. 

"Oh, am I? Tell me more about what you like about me." 

"I never said I liked you. I said you were cute." 

Ten pouts. He likes the familiarity of banter, but that's not what he's here for. Taeyong speaks before he can, though. 

"Why are you here, Ten?" 

Ten sighs. "I'm here because I want to be with you. You don't let me care about you." 

"Why do you care about me?" 

Ten thinks about it. It's true, Taeyong hasn't been particularly warm or friendly towards him or anyone. But he's spent enough time with him to know that he's not a completely rotten apple, like everyone seems to believe. 

"Is it so hard to believe that I just like being around you?" 

The look on Taeyong's face says  _ Yes, duh, _ but he just sighs dejectedly. 

"Doyoung doesn't like me. Lucas and Sicheng are scared of me. Johnny is hardly a real person. I'm the black sheep here. You'll be outcast, too, just for spending time with me." 

_ Don't you enjoy our time together? _ Ten wants to ask.  _ Do others' opinions matter so much to you? _

"Why are they scared of you?" he asks instead. Taeyong shakes his head.

"I'm..." he trails off, looking for the right words. "I'm hard to get along with." 

Ten marvels at how easy it was to get him to open up, even if just this tiny bit. He wants to know more, so he keeps pushing.

"Doyoung told me you're temperamental." 

"Well, Doyoung's a prick." Ten smirks at that. 

"Taeyong, you should go make up with him. You should do it now before it just becomes more bad blood." 

Taeyong doesn't say anything, so he continues.

"I won't ask what the argument was about, if you don't want to tell me, but at least do this for yourself. You'll feel better. I promise." 

"And what if it doesn't?" 

"Then at least nobody can say you didn't try." 

A moment's pause.

"And it'll make me feel better, if that's worth anything to you." 

Taeyong apologizes to Doyoung once they return. 

It's sincere, though Ten can tell it feels like grovelling to him. Doyoung is a little suspicious and a lot taken aback. 

"To be honest Taeyong, I'm a little wary of forgiving you, especially since it's obvious Ten put you up to this, but I appreciate the gesture." 

Taeyong has a crisis in their room about it. Ten finds him on his bed, face buried so deeply in his pillows he wonders how he's breathing.

"I don't know if that was worth it. I literally don't know if that was worth it at  _ all _ ." 

"You say that, but I can tell your heart's lighter already." Ten says in a sing-song voice. He doesn't know how he knows, but he knows. Whatever was lifted off Taeyong's shoulders was also lifted off his own. 

But there's still  _ something _ there, pressing up against a nerve in Taeyong's mind. They must be thinking about it at the same time, because he brings it up. 

"Yet I still feel so bitter," Taeyong says quietly. Ten hooks his arm around Taeyong's and rests his head on his shoulder, lets his eyes shut. Bitterness—bitterness he can understand. But that isn't what's here, what's present. It's something much, much heavier. 

"This isn't bitterness," Ten tells him. "It's grief." 

Taeyong doesn't say anything more, just lets Ten stay by his side, comforting.

//

The next time Taeil comes, Ten asks for a piano. 

"A piano?" 

"Yeah. Eighty-eight keys, preferably." 

Taeil doesn't deny or accept the request verbally, just raises an eyebrow, but the next day a grand piano is delivered and set up in an open corner of the living room. He watches a professional come and tune it, trying not to think about the truth of harmonics. The wood is a rich, deep brown and is engraved with a golden  _ YAMAHA _ . 

He doesn't remember how long its been since he last played, which is too long as far as he's concerned. He plays random sections of various songs he can remember, and the living room is a chorus of broken off progressions and accidentals where he wasn't paying attention to finger placement. Eventually he finds his rhythm though, and he can't help but smile faintly while he plays. He didn't know he had missed this so much.

"I didn't know we had a piano," Lucas says from behind him, and he almost jumps. 

"I asked Taeil for one." Lucas whistles as he runs his finger over the wood, and then across one of the keys. 

"You're really good, you know. Maybe you could put on a concert for us." 

Ten used to play in piano competitions, back in elementary school. How long has it been since he's been on a stage? 

He thinks about it on the way to the villa's dance studio. There's no internet, so all he has to work with is the music already available on the old laptop that's given to them. It's a lot of pop music, some classical, but mostly artists he's never heard of. He settles for classical in the end. 

Ten's always enjoyed dancing to classical music. There aren't any words, so it's easier to come up with your own story, your own interpretation. Maybe it's weird to say, but he even finds it easier to get lost in the music, to really  _ feel  _ it. 

If there's one thing Ten wants to bring with him from Thailand, he decides hours later lying on the studio floor, it's his love of music.

The floor is probably dirty though, and he's sore and smells like shit, so he goes to shower, but pauses in the middle of the hall when he hears a piano.

Peeking into the living room, he recognizes red hair sitting at the piano absolutely destroying the keys. It's not a piece he recognizes, but he feels something heavy and sad growing in his heart the longer he stands and listens. It's a somber piece, not slow but not fast either. Ten feels rooted in place as feelings of loss seem to take over. He can barely bring himself to wipe the tears that threaten to fall down his face.

Eventually the piece is over, and then there's silence. He doesn't hear the key cover close or the piano stool scoot backwards, so he leaves. He lets the hot spray of water clear his head, and probably his heart, too. 

Despair. It felt like he was dying, standing there listening to Taeyong play, but why grief? It felt like he had lost something to fundamental to his existence he couldn't even breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. It was a beautiful piece, but how could it have moved him so much?

Ten thinks about it while he dries his hair and brushes his teeth, but his head still feels clouded by sadness. It's hard to focus; his thoughts keep going back to the inexplicable sorrow he felt. 

He finds Taeyong sitting on his bed once he returns to the room. He's staring intently at a variety of photos covering the sheets. He glimpses a few baby photos before Taeyong quickly gathers them in one hand and flips them upside down. Ten doesn't mention it.

"I haven't seen you all day," he comments instead. 

"You never came to see me." he retorts, standing to put the pile of photos back into his drawer. As he moves, Ten just barely catches a glimpse of red eyes and tear stained cheeks. 

"Hey, are you okay?" he reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, but Taeyong shrugs him off harshly. 

"I'm—fine," he says, but when he turns to look Ten in the eye, he can tell he's anything but. Even without the fading tear streaks, there's a look in his eyes that he wants to call haunted. 

"You don't look fine," Ten says. This is the second time he's been shrugged off, but he can't help reaching out to him again, hardly even notices he's doing it. 

"Stop!" he yells, smacking his hand away. "Just—fucking—stop touching me. Why are you always touching me? What do you  _ want?"  _

"I just want to know what's  _ wrong,  _ so I can help you!" The words come out feebler than he wanted. He's cradling the hand Taeyong hit; it doesn't hurt as much as it burns. He can't tell if he's imagining it or not. He bites back tears that threaten to fall, but he knows it's obvious his eyes are watering. 

"Why do you fucking care?" he shouts, loud enough to pass through the walls. God. "Why are you so nice to me? I can't—" Taeyong just lets out a harsh breath suddenly, and Ten suddenly feels overwhelmed by emotion; so many all fighting for attention he can't pick out what's what. He hardly processes Taeyong storming out of the room, too busy not trying to throw up. He just barely catches himself on the edge of Taeyong's bed when his knees give out, and he has to catch his breath.

Confused. He's so confused. He wants to cry and scream and hit something, he wants to sit back and calm down but he still feels like he's going to throw up any second now, there's a headache coming on and his feet are still sore from dancing—

Suddenly there's an arm around his shoulder, a gentler voice trying to reach him.

"Ten, Ten, listen—I'm here. It's Doyoung. I'm here." Doyoung.  _ Doyoung.  _ He's—safe, his brain decides. Doyoung is safe. Doyoung won't leave.

"Breathe slowly. You need to relax. Taeyong left, he's not going to hurt you anymore." 

Thoughts of Taeyong make him feel—feel too much, he doesn't know what, but it's too much. He focuses on how soft Doyoung's sweater is—except it's not that soft, it's wool, but its real—and the sweet nothings he's whispering to calm him down. Slowly the world starts to pull together again; the floor is cold, the light is too bright. Doyoung is so, so warm. 

While Ten draws himself back together, Doyoung just holds him, lets him calm down. His sweater is soaked when Ten pulls back. 

"Where's Taeyong?" he asks. His voice feels hoarse, and he doesn't know why.

"Taeyong left, and you're  _ not  _ going after him," he says when Ten moves to stand. His body is reacting before his brain can, and he fucking hates it. "Do you understand what just happened?"

"What? What happened?" 

"You had a panic attack. Do you understand that?" 

A panic attack.

"I thought I was dying. I thought my head was going to fall off." 

"It looked like you were dying. Whatever it was, you need to rest. Taeyong's a big boy, he can handle himself. And you need to stop trying to baby him—I mean, look what he did! He made you  _ cry _ , Ten. Stop trying to fix him."

Ten tears himself from Doyoung's hold. 

"I'm not trying to fix anybody! Taeyong is just—" Taeyong is what? What is he to Ten? A friend? A potential lover? A foil? 

"Taeil said we were put here to help each other. Why can't I do that? Why can't I at least try?" 

Doyoung sighs, and Ten can't tell if its a sigh of pity or frustration.

"If you want to help him, find a better way. Right now you're just...setting him off." 

Fatigue overtakes Ten suddenly, and it must show on his face because Doyoung helps him stand and climb up to his bunk. 

"Taeyong is dangerous, Ten. I don't want him to hurt you." 

With that he's gone, and Ten hardly has any time to think about it before he drifts into sleep. 

//

In his dreams, there's fire, so much fire and it's choking. He doesn't know where he is, but he's searching for an exit, there  _ has  _ to be a fucking exit. Flames are reaching all around him and overhead, permanently at his heels but still close enough to burn. Smoke is making his eyes water and he can't shake the nagging voice in his head,  _ my fault, my fault, mea culpa.  _

He wakes with a gasp followed by shaky half-inhales that are interrupted by coughing. He sits up as he tries to catch his breath. 

There's no fire, the room is pitch black and the air clear. He stares at the patterns moonlight makes through the curtains on the wall as his breath returns to normal. That's when he hears grunts, soft murmurs of what sound like pain from beneath him. 

Leaning down over the railing he sees Taeyong having a fitful sleep. His cries are so mournful, so pleading that he doesn't think twice about climbing down from his bunk. 

"Taeyong," he calls, kneeling on the floor. Taeyong just kicks out against his blanket.

"Taeyong." he tries again, a bit louder this time, to no avail. Taeyong lets out a quiet shout, and Ten doesn't know why it pierces his heart the way it does, but it doesn't stop him from reaching out to shake his shoulder.

That does the trick, as Taeyong's eyes fly open and land directly on Ten's. 

"You were having a nightmare," he says by way of explanation when Taeyong doesn't move. Then he sits up slowly and drags two hands down his face. "Are you okay?"

Taeyong nods, face still covered. 

"I hate nightmares," he says through his fingers. 

"Do you want me to sit with you? I had a nightmare, too." 

"Do what you want." he answers weakly. That's about as close as Taeyong will ever get to asking for comfort, so he climbs onto the bed, sitting cross legged on top of the blankets. 

"Can I touch you?" Ten asks. Almost a minute passes before Taeyong gives him the meekest 'Okay,' he's ever heard in his life. 

Ten leans his head on Taeyong's shoulder and gently hooks his arms around Taeyong's. Taeyong doesn't move, but he isn't tense, so Ten decides to stay there for however long he'll let him. After a while, Taeyong tilts his head enough to rest it on top of Ten's. 

"You're warm," Ten mumbles into his arm. He lets the full weight of his body fall onto Taeyong, and they fall backwards onto the bed. Taeyong turns to meet his gaze then. For a while they just look at each other.

"I'm sorry," he says gently after some time. More than guilt, Ten can see sorrow moving behind his eyes. Taeyong's hand is rubbing small circles into his shoulder, as if he's asking for more. He inhales a shaky breath, and Ten isn't sure what possesses him to move closer, but it feels right. It's not love that's attracting him; it's something simpler, more foundational. When he leans in to kiss him, he thinks he feels it stirring in his own chest. 

Taeyong stills, but slowly warms into it. Ten presses his body in closer, angles his lips to deepen the kiss. His lips aren't particularly soft, but there's a sincerity in the way he moves his lips against Ten's that makes his heart squeeze. Taeyong kisses slowly, almost apologetically—probably apologetically, Ten thinks. He lifts a hand to Taeyong's cheek to hold him closer, and gently peeks his tongue out to brush against his. Taeyong shudders and exhales harshly through his nose, but lets his lips part. 

He lets Ten explore his mouth, and he does so carefully, wanting to feel through every inch of his mouth. He wonders who else has had this opportunity to touch Taeyong. He wonders if its anyone in the home. He dispels the thought as soon as it comes, distracting himself by bringing up his leg to slide between Taeyong's. Taeyong groans at the friction and Ten smiles with satisfaction. Taeyong bites the bottom of Ten's lip in response, dropping a hand to his hip and pulling them flush together. 

Suddenly there are hands on his shoulders pushing backwards, and he finds himself on his back with Taeyong hovering over him, kiss broken. 

"Ten," he pants. "I don't... _ love  _ often. I love too much, or never." Taeyong nearly spits out the word. He pauses, continues when Ten nods. "I love, and people get hurt. If we're going to do this, I can't promise I won't hurt you." He presses a gentle kiss to Ten's lips then. 

"If we're going to do this, I'm giving you all of me." 

Suddenly it clicks. Taeyong's giving him one last chance to back out, to realize how dangerous this is and run as far away as possible. Standing on the precipice of change, of pure chaos, he's given one last opportunity to back out. 

Ten's been running away from risk his entire life. This is too close for comfort, but he's been sinking for too long to change his mind about it now. 

"I'll take my chances." he says. 

Ten gets an inkling of the intensity of Taeyong's affections as their bodies slide together across his bed sheets. His kisses are all encompassing, each touch filled with careful purpose. He drinks in every sound Ten makes and takes great care to drag out every feeling for as long as possible.

Ten can't help the impression that Taeyong thinks he'll leave.

In the morning he's alone, but Taeyong's pillow is still warm. He considers putting on Taeyong's discarded shirt to be cheeky, but decides against it. A brief image of Doyoung or even Lucas seeing him wear Taeyong's clothing flashes through his mind, accompanied by a brief but intense feeling of sheer horror that momentarily leaves him paralyzed. It passes quickly, and Ten proceeds to put his own shirt on before leaving the room. 

He finds Taeyong in the kitchen making breakfast. He comes up behind him and slinks his arms around his waist, pressing into his back.

"Good morning," Taeyong says. Ten hums into his spine in response. 

They eat their breakfast outside, and he can tell Taeyong is in a good mood, because he even cooks extra for the others. They forgo any footwear, and Ten takes care to acknowledge every blade of grass that tickles the soles of his feet and poke up in between his toes. They sit nearby the house, and Ten thinks about the ant mounds he would destroy with abandon back in Thailand. He didn't check the time when he woke up, but it's cooler than it normally is and the sun just barely reaches over the farthest trees in the orchard. A sense of complete, unblemish contentedness washes over him and he shuts his eyes. 

He feels Taeyong link their fingers together. Wordlessly, he rubs circles into Ten's hand with his thumb, and he savors the tingling heat that rushes through his chest. 

Lee Taeyong. 

Ten is of the belief that romance isn't, can't be therapy—it's a high more than anything else, a drug that eventually wears out and you're left feeling empty and unsatisfied again. He isn't expecting anymore with Taeyong, but he's still shocked at the depth of his attraction to him. He wonders if Taeil knew what would happen when he brought Ten here, if he was just playing matchmaker; or maybe Ten was just an unknown variable and they wanted to see what would happen. Anyway he looks at it,  _ has  _ looked at it, whatever the nature of the home is, it seems to center around Taeyong. Maybe his gravity was just as unavoidable to the others as it felt to Ten. Maybe he threw everybody's orbits off course when he arrived here.

But for right now, he doesn't want to care about any of that. All he wants to know, breathe,  _ understand  _ is Lee Taeyong. Using his other hand he tugs at Taeyong's shirt sleeve and leans up to kiss him when his head turns. Taeyong laughs into his mouth and Ten thinks he might be obsessed with how his lips curl around his own. He tastes like the syrup he had poured on their pancakes and something else Ten can only describe as pleasantly earthy. 

"You know, your Korean is really good," Taeyong says suddenly when they pull apart. 

"I try." Ten thinks about the first night he had met Taeyong and his scornful comment on his accent. It must be more obvious than he thinks, because Taeyong's eyes turn to crescents as he smiles at him, teeth showing. 

"Your accent is cute," he says. Ten feels blood rush to his cheeks, but holds eye contact.

"I thought you didn't like my accent," he says quietly. Something sympathic or guilty comes over Taeyong's face.

"I love your accent." Ten doesn't know how to respond and he feels his face growing redder. 

"Play guitar for me," he deflects. He isn't used to being at a loss for words, but he thinks it's okay if it's Taeyong that severs the connection between his head and his tongue.

//

If there's one thing Ten actively appreciates about Taeyong, it's his lack of clinginess. They enjoy their time together undoubtedly, but Ten can only spend his day with one person for so long before he starts to feel uncomfortable. It's not exactly a routine, but they're content to spend their mornings and nights together, while they're generally off doing their own thing in the afternoons. For Ten, that means confining himself to the dance studio for the remainder of the day's light, or playing video games with Doyoung and Lucas. For Taeyong, it means locking himself in his room for hours on end, or hogging the piano to himself when the living room was empty. 

Their compatibility in this way has the added bonus of the likelihood of their relationship behind found out heavily reduced. It's unfortunate that the others aren't comfortable around Taeyong, but for the most part the relationships in the home are stable—he doesn't know how he and Taeyong coming out would affect that. It's going to come eventually, he knows; during his breaks in the dance studio, he shakes a figurative fist at the proverbial shoe just waiting to succumb to gravity's sweet embrace. 

It can't really be helped, though. There's history between Taeyong and the others, and Ten doesn't even know where to begin broaching the subject. 

One day Ten comes upon Johnny and Sicheng in the living room, sitting on cushions on the floor. Sicheng's back is to Johnny while he lets him braid his hair (it's really gotten longer since Ten first came to the home.) His eyes are closed and he can't spot a single line of tension on his face. Johnny threads his fingers through dark locks expertly, the focus in his eyes almost excessive. He ties the ends of the strands with small colorful hair bands. 

He never even considered that Johnny might have noticed him standing and staring until he acknowledges him with a calm "Hello, Ten." The hair on his arm rises and he doesn't understand how someone's voice can betray such stability with just three syllables. 

"Oh—hi. Sorry, you just surprised me." 

"I tend to do that." 

"Yeah, you really fuckin' do," Ten says with a grin that widens when Johnny returns it. "I was actually looking for Lucas, have you seen him around?" 

"He was wearing his gardening gloves last I saw him," Johnny says. His eyes haven't left the back of Sicheng's head since their conversation started. "He's probably in the back digging for lost treasure." 

"Gotcha. Thanks."

In all honesty, Ten had forgotten the villa even had a backyard, much less an actual garden. It's not particularly well kept or professional looking, but he supposes with only one person managing it, you can't expect too much. 

He finds Lucas kneeling in a small plot of dirt, scooping out rows of holes with a trovel. He's wearing a conical straw hat and a shirt that's probably supposed to be white, but it's hard to tell with the various shades of brown stained on the front. He looks up when he hears the back door slide open and gives him a warm smile.

"Ten! Feels like I haven't seen you in forever!" he says enthusiastically, and Ten wonders if he could fall in love with him, too. 

"You saw me yesterday, loser. I kicked your ass on Peach and I'm here to challenge you again about it." He laughs at the teasing, setting down the trovel and perching himself on his heels. 

"Doyoung isn't around? Ah, who am I kidding, he's probably busy moping about being bad at Smash."

"Likely. Also, you're less likely to throw pillows at me when I'm winning" Lucas laughs again.

"Sure, I'll play you again. But why don't you help me with the garden first? I might've bitten off more than I could chew." 

Normally he's wary about loose dirt anywhere near him, but he lets it go to work on the garden with Lucas. They're planting peonies and hyacinths. 

"Winwin said he wanted more flowers around the home, so I asked Taeil for some seeds." 

Ten thinks it's adorable that Lucas is willing to put in all this labor to make Sicheng happy. Years ago, Ten would have looked down on someone with such a heart of gold; Lucas would have downright disgusted him. But for whatever reason, he isn't feeling that now. Lucas is brave to be able to wear his heart on his sleeve every day. Honestly, it's almost romantic, and it makes him think of Taeyong, who subsequently is stuck on his mind for the rest of the time he's digging and covering up holes around the garden. 

"Say, have you noticed anything different about Taeyong lately?" Lucas says half an hour later when they're taking a break. They only have a small section to do left. Ten considers his options carefully, not sure how much he should or shouldn't reveal. He decides to play dumb.

"No, why? Is something wrong?" 

"No, it's not that. He just seems a bit…" Lucas' gaze turns thoughtful as he searches for the right word. Ten is equal parts nervous and excited—which are mostly the same feeling, he thinks. "He seems  _ lighter,  _ almost. You know a week ago he cooked pancakes for everybody? And the other day while he was playing piano, he was just  _ smiling  _ to himself." 

Ten looks at him expectantly, trying to hide the smile that wants to break out onto his face. 

"It makes me nervous. Taeyong is always so taciturn—I'm worried he might…" Lucas trails off again, looking into the middle distance now. Ten's interest has, at this point, been thoroughly piqued. 

"Worried he might what?" he asks as casually as possible. Lucas just shakes his head.

"No, if he's found something to make him happy, I shouldn't think too hard about it." The look on his face tells Ten he regrets even saying anything. 

"Why don't you just go ask him what's got him so chipper?" Ten suggests carefully. "I know you guys don't seem comfortable around him, but he's just a human person. Worst case scenario he tells you to fuck off, but from the way everyone treats him, that's what's expected of him anyway." 

Lucas just looks at him for some moments, eyebrows raised in mild surprise, as if simply talking to Taeyong had never crossed his mind before. 

"Maybe," is all he says before he stands and stretches, ready to finish digging the last section of land. Ten joins him.

It might be a stretch, but maybe he  _ can  _ help rebuild the relationships between Taeyong and the others. 

Later that night, when Ten's a gooey mess beneath Taeyong as he presses gentle butterfly kisses to his collarbone, he can't help but wonder what it is about Taeyong that always puts everyone else in the program on edge. The only parts of Taeyong he knows are smooth muscle sliding against his own, calloused fingers from steel guitar strings, and warm kisses that make him think the world  _ might  _ be a forgiving place. There are outbursts, but the ones he's beared witness to are far from intolerable. 

Still, even as Taeyong moves inside him, kind and purposeful, he can't shake the feeling of there being a monster under the bed. 

The next afternoon is an obscenely boring one. It's been just about two months since Ten's been in the home, and it seems like he's finally exhausted all his time-wasting options. The Smash and Mario Kart matches between Doyoung and Lucas (and occasionally Johnny) have grown repetitive, and over time it becomes clear to him that they're something of a routine to them as well. There's only so many times he can listen to the same songs available on the dance studio's computer, and with no internet, he can't exactly look up any new songs to learn on the piano. 

He wants to see Taeyong, but he's nowhere to be found in the villa, and he doesn't exactly feel like scouring the orchard in the summer heat for him. He thinks he should be more embarrassed about it than he is, but he resigns himself to laying in Taeyong's bed, smushing his face into his pillows. They smell like his shampoo and vaguely of the sex they had the night before.

He's bored after about fifteen minutes.

He returns to the living room, intent on trying to play all the pieces he can remember at double speed, but instead finds Sicheng sitting on the floor, papers sprawled on the coffee table. He looks up when he enters and smiles at him. He's wielding a fountain pen and there's an inkwell by his other arm. 

"Are you doing calligraphy?" he asks, kneeling on the other side of the table. Sicheng nods and Ten watches each trail of black ink flow smoothly over the paper, Chinese characters taking shape under the pen. He recognizes some of the characters; 'blossom', 'golden', and 'castle'. He thinks it's poetry, but he doesn't want to interrupt his concentration again by asking. He's only vaguely aware of the technical skill involved in calligraphy, but he knows it takes a lot more focus than it may seem. He's content to just watch and share Sicheng's silent companionship. The scratch of the fountain pen on paper is soothing, and before long he finds himself nodding off. 

Once he opens his eyes again, the sunlight streaming in through the windows has shifted; the sun is setting. The papers on the table have been moved around, all of them boasting neat rows of Chinese letters. Even to Ten's amateur eyes, he can tell Sicheng is an amazing calligrapher. 

Something in front of him twitches, and he realizes Sicheng is still sitting on the other side of the table. His head is tilted down, eyes wide open staring at the paper in front of him. Ten has a mind to just assume he's dazed out, but something in Sicheng's complete stillness makes the hair on his arms rise. 

"Sicheng?" he calls. There's no acknowledgement that he was heard. Ten realizes how pallid Sicheng's face is then, and he crawls to the other side of the table and kneels beside him. Gently, he shakes his shoulder and calls his name again.

Suddenly Sicheng's gaze snaps up to meet Ten's, and he suddenly feels really,  _ really  _ fucking dizzy. He keeps his eyes trained on Sicheng's as he keels over, barely catching himself with a rough grip on the edge of the table. The floor is twisting from underneath him and now there's an impossible pressure pressing in on his head from all sides; it feels like it's going to explode. He's barely aware of how dry his mouth feels, too busy reaching out to Sicheng, but no matter how hard he tries he's just always too far away. 

From the corner of his eye he notices something lifting up from the table, black and spidery. It takes shape mid-air; Chinese characters that he can hardly keep his eyes on, he's so dizzy. His head feels stone heavy and feather light at the same time; there are lights flashing from every angle, and Ten thinks some of them have voices but he can't understand what they're saying. The ground is shaking beneath him and oh Christ, this is the world ending—

Something from behind jerks him away, and then there's the pungent smell of open air and the last vestiges of sunlight are painting his hands a pale yellow. Slowly the pressure on his head dissipates and the ground returns to its natural, solid state. His fingers feel sore and he realizes he's gripping someone's shirt tightly. He looks up to see red hair and wide eyes. 

Taeyong. Lee Taeyong. 

He has one arm around his waist and another gripping Ten's wrist, pressing it close to his chest. Some kind of violent affection flushes his system at the sight of his boyfriend, a less acute dizziness threatens to come again—but it doesn't. He just stares, and loves. 

That love quickly turns to unease as an angry look comes over Taeyong's face.

"What the  _ fuck  _ were you doing?" he demands. Ten is momentarily confused, and he finds it difficult trying to recall the events of the past five minutes. His brows furrow in thought.

"There was Sicheng…" he begins without certainty. "And...I don't remember what I was doing. But I just felt so  _ dizzy.  _ Tae, it felt like the ground was moving, like it was going to open up and swallow everything whole. I couldn't move." 

Taeyong listens to him speak, his anger now morphed into concern. He seems at a loss for words. Ten still has a nagging feeling that he should be with Sicheng and tries to pull away, but Taeyong holds him. 

"I need to see Sicheng. I feel like something's wrong," he says. 

" _ No.  _ Don't go back in there. Don't you realize what he did to you?" 

Ten pauses. "'Did to me'? I just got dizzy, Tae. Sicheng didn't…" Didn't what? Was it Sicheng's fault Ten suddenly felt like the world was ending? He shakes his head, trying to clear the confusion. "I need to go help him." He doesn't know where the word 'help' came from, but it feels accurate. He tries to pull away again, and Taeyong stops him, again. 

"Stop— _ stop  _ trying to help everybody, Ten! You're going to hurt yourself!" he says. Then he growls with frustration. "Listen. Whatever Doyoung told you, everybody in this house is just as, if not more dangerous than I am." Ten doesn't really know how to respond, so he doesn't. 

"You could've died." Taeyong says quietly. 

Twisting his head, Ten notices that the front door was left widely ajar. He can see Lucas inside—where had he come from?—cradling Sicheng in his arms and rubbing circles into his back. Sicheng is crying. 

The sight makes his heart twist, so he turns back to rest his head on Taeyong's chest. He hugs him closer and Ten relishes his warmth. But he's too curious.

"Did you see, feel all that too, then?"

"I didn't, no. You just happened to be in the immediate vicinity."

"Of?"

He feels Taeyong shrug. "Taeil doesn't have a name for it yet. Maybe he never will."

"It was horrible," Ten mumbles. "Where were you today?" he asks. "I missed you."

"Lucas invited me for a walk. We went around the whole orchard three times, then sat by the stream." Taeyong says. Then, more quietly, "I missed you, too. I was thinking about you the whole time." 

Ten tilts his head up and kisses him. It's a soft kiss, one that makes his heart flutter and his cheeks redden. 

"It's okay to come in now, guys," Lucas calls from the door. Ten jumps away from Taeyong, but Lucas is staring at them with an inscrutable expression on his face. He dips back into the house without another word. Taeyong shrugs and leads him back inside. 

That night, Ten sits shirtless on Taeyong's bed while he presses gentle kisses all across his collarbone and up onto his neck. It's not foreplay, Taeyong had said, he just wanted to touch him. 

"I'm just making up for being away from you today." 

"I never would've pegged you for a romantic," Ten says

"What's that about pegging?" Taeyong dodges, nose nuzzling the juncture of his neck and jawline. Ten just laughs and wonders if it was possible for one person to feel so much love—in truth, it felt overwhelming at times like these, but there are better ways to die, he thinks. 

"You're too sweet for me," Taeyong says in between kisses. 

"What do you mean?"

"You're so generous with your feelings," he explains, raising his head from Ten's chest. "I can't be that way. I don't know how you do it. I don't know why you like me." 

"Aww, you're not  _ that _ bad," he coos teasingly, lifting a hand to cup Taeyong's cheek. Taeyong glares at him playfully and pinches his side. Ten doesn't bother concealing his cry. 

"I'm an emotional person, Taeyong. Seeing other people hurting...hurts me, too." He presses a light kiss to his lips, then. "Seeing you hurting hurts me most." 

"Why?" 

That catches Ten off guard.

"Because I like you. I like you more than the others." 

Taeyong looks like he doesn't buy it, but he doesn't push it.

"I caught something Taeil had written down on his notepad, once," Taeyong begins. "Something like 'empath' and 'lack of boundaries'. Do you remember when you were in my dream that one time?"

Ten nods, unsure of where this is going. He's always been empathic. He didn't always act on it, but it was so easy to confuse his own feelings with other people's. With age, he had learned to control it; but there were times he would still get carried away in other people's heartache. Suddenly something in his mind clicks.

"Once, I was watching you play piano. It was a sad song, but suddenly I just felt so overwhelmed with grief, I thought I was going to fall over right there in the hall," Ten recounts. "I had no idea where it came from; it just suddenly hit me." He pauses again and Taeyong looks at him expectantly.

"Those were your feelings, weren't they?" 

Taeyong shifts, and Ten can tell he's visibly uncomfortable. He must know exactly what he's talking about. 

"And when it's the first time I've seen you all day, and you hug or kiss me, it quite literally feels like my heart is going to burst out of my chest." Ten continues. "I've never felt that way about anyone, let alone someone I've just barely met."

"You can feel my feelings," Taeyong concludes. Ten takes a breath and lets the implication of that statement sink in. 

"It seems like it," Ten says. "The same things don't happen with the other members. It's just you." Taeyong's lips quirk up at that.

"I guess I'm special," he says. Then he frowns, something dark washing over his face. "I'm sorry I feel too much. I'm sorry I love too much." Ten takes his face in his hands and kisses him. The heat in his chest intensifies, close to unbearable but not quite. He can feel himself becoming addicted to the hot sweetness of Taeyong's affection for him. It chokes and it comforts. 

"I love your love," he says gently. Taeyong surges forward and tackles him to the bed, peppering kisses all across his cheeks, nose, lips. He laughs into his skin when Ten tickles his sides, rubs soft circles into his wrists where they're pinned gently on either side of his head. It's not sexual now, and it's not sexual later when Ten tugs Taeyong's shirt over his head. They're desperate for physical contact, and after some time he's comfortable just holding Ten to his chest, feeling his breaths tickle his chest where he's curled himself in. 

The days following genuinely feel like Ten's on cloud nine. He spends most of his time with Taeyong; every day he's amazed at how much there is to him that nobody else gets to see—the gentleness of his voice when he talks about his favorite artists, the colorful array of expressions he hides behind a stoic countenance, even the slight,  _ slight  _ skin discolorations around his jawline and running down his neck. 

He loves  _ how  _ Taeyong loves. It's not overt and it's not overly cheesy, but it's there in the way he adlibs songs with the random chord progressions he strums on his guitar, and it's there in the way he lets Ten rest his head in his lap while he reads. He still jumps and Ten definitely sees the way his hands jerk to cover his papers before slowly drawing them back, but he at least lets Ten stay in the room with him when he draws, doesn't even mind when he pulls up a chair to watch him. 

He learns that Taeyong is  _ very  _ serious about holding hands when they go out on walks. 

"There's so much space out here. I don't want you to run ahead and leave me alone." 

"You think I'll run away from you?" Ten laughs. Taeyong shrugs, but he's still smiling.

"I don't know. What if you do?" 

Ten lets his other hand drag across the bark of a dying tree. He wants to test the waters.

"What if I do? Would you let me go?" 

"Of course," Taeyong answers without hesitation. "But it still makes me nervous." 

"I didn't know _ Lee Taeyong _ got nervous." He expects another quip in response, but doesn't get one. 

"I'm only human." 

"Well, it's a good thing I like holding hands, anyway. Even if they get sweaty." 

Taeyong just smiles at him, doe eyes shining. 

//

One day, he finds Johnny and Taeyong at the piano, playing together. Taeyong takes the bass part, Johnny treble—it's a simple song, one Ten doesn't recognize. Johnny is humming along to his part, occasionally murmuring lyrics under his breath. Taeyong is smiling at him, eyes alight with something close to admiration, maybe even pride. Johnny notices Taeyong watching him and returns the smile. 

"We should play piano together more," Taeyong says. 

"We should. I'd like that. It can be just like old times." 

Taeyong cocks his head in confusion, but his smile doesn't drop. 

"Old times?" 

Johnny's eyes suddenly widen, as if he was surprised himself. His face reddens slightly. 

"I just used to play piano with people like this a lot." he covers. Taeyong accepts the excuse easily. 

"Do you know Chopsticks? Can we play that together?" he asks excitedly, and Johnny indulges him. The living room is filled with a playful tune, one that makes Ten picture a kind of carnival or the small fairs that were hosted at his middle school. 

While he listens, he thinks about what Johnny had said. It could easily be taken as a slip of the tongue, not meaning to share a personal anecdote with Taeyong of all people—but Ten isn't sure he buys it. 

Johnny's playing cuts off midway through a measure. 

"I forgot the rest," he says with a laugh. 

"It was so good, hyung. It was my favorite song as a kid. Oh—how long have you been here?" Taeyong says, finally noticing Ten's presence. 

"I just walked in," he lies. "I didn't know you played, Johnny."

"I think everyone in the home is musically inclined in some way," he says. A look of reminiscence comes across his face, accompanied by a faint smile. "I asked Taeil about that once, but he just smiled." 

He listens to Johnny play through most of his musical repertoire, Taeyong occasionally singing along or asking to take the bassline. Ten can't help but notice how in sync they are—never too fast, never too slow, always hitting the first note together. He doesn't mention it.

Johnny corners him later on that week.

Well, he doesn't corner him as much as peek into the dance studio—not even entering—and saying,

"Take a walk with me." 

His tone is calm and unassuming, but Johnny's never approached him before—and he's never seen him approach anyone else, much less ask them to actually go outside. 

They sit together in the back garden. The flowers have started peeking out of the dirt, some of them even taking on a hint of white or pink. He makes a mental note to tell Lucas about it later.

"You've seemed happy with Taeyong lately," Johnny comments. Had it been anyone else, Ten would have immediately seen through the veneer of casualness in his tone and taken it for an accusation. With Johnny, though, he genuinely can't tell. He's looking at the ground, drawing circles and other shapes into the loose dirt. Ten chooses his words carefully.

"Taeyong isn't so bad. I like to be around him." 

Johnny hums. "And he seems happy with you, too. I'm glad."

"Glad," Ten repeats, still unable to figure out what Johnny wants from him. He wouldn't be surprised if Johnny picked up on his discomfort. 

"Yeah. Glad." he says. "Taeyong always seems so lonely, you know? I'm glad you can be there for him." 

"Why can't you be there for him, then, if you care?" Ten asks before he can think better of it. Johnny doesn't seem fazed though, watching a ladybug crawl around on a hand held up to his face. 

"It's for the best if my interactions with Taeyong are...limited." he says carefully. 

"The others seem to feel that way, too." Johnny chuckles.

"My reasons for avoiding Taeyong are different from theirs, believe me." Ten does. 

"But, Ten," Johnny continues. He lets the ladybug down onto the grass and looks up at Ten. "I'm saying this as a friend to a friend, and as someone who cares for Taeyong more than you know.  _ Please  _ be careful with him. The pieces are more fragile than you think."

It's cryptic, but Ten grasps the meaning immediately. He nods, then smiles—he and Johnny seem to be on a similar wavelength. 

"I'll keep that in mind." 

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Ten can't help but ponder Johnny's relationship with Taeyong. If he wanted him to know the details, he would have given them by now, so he doesn't ask just how close Johnny is to Taeyong. He thinks back to a few days prior, when they were playing piano. Okay, maybe he wants to push  _ just  _ a little.

"Johnny?"

"Hmm?" 

"What did you mean when you said 'It'll be just like old times' the other day?" 

Johnny doesn't answer immediately. He just smiles a laughing smile, as if the question was comical. It probably was to him. 

"You're perceptive," is all he chooses to divulge. 

//

Lucas is pacing around the garden aggressively. His eyes are moving at a thousand miles a second, but whatever he's looking at isn't in the real world. His arms are wrapped tightly around himself. He doesn't even hear the sliding door open as Ten steps out into the backyard.

"Lucas?" he calls tentatively. Lucas' head jerks up. His eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open in a small 'o'. He's looking straight at Ten, and the fear on his face is apparent. 

"Ten, there's—today—" he suddenly cuts off. Ten approaches him, rests a comforting hand on the side of his arm, the other taking his hand. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Something is going to happen today," he says. "Something bad. I don't know what it is, I have no idea, but it's something  _ really  _ bad…"

Ten does all he can to comfort him, but Lucas is only giving him so much to work with, and it truly seems like he doesn't know what's frightening him. Ten has had friends with anxiety before; the kind that spawns from nothing and eats at you all the live-long day. 

He's not with him for very long when Sicheng frantically throws open the sliding door (yet taking the care to close it fully once he's out) and rushes to Lucas' side. He moves with such certainty that he half expects to be shoved out of the way; and really, Sicheng is so focused on Lucas that he hardly seems to notice Ten's presence. He's carrying a small gray bottle with no label. 

Lucas perks up the moment Sicheng drops to a kneel and takes the bottle when it's offered to him. They stare at each other for a few moments, their expressions changing just slightly enough for Ten to notice. It's like they're communicating through looks alone. He's incredibly confused and kind of wants to stay and watch them for longer, but it feels like a private moment. He leaves quietly.

It turns out to be another check-up today. This time, Taeil (or rather, the group of men dressed in black) set up an obstacle course through the orchard. The first half seems to be a race of sorts; then it comes to a series of tires lain flat on the ground, and the rest of the course is blocked off by trees from where Ten stands. The only other information Taeil has given them is that some are puzzles, some require teamwork, and others are red herrings. Ten wonders why they didn't just send them to an escape room. 

Taeil is taking some final notes on his clipboard while the men in black stand around ominously, staring. Doyoung is talking animatedly with Lucas about the contents of the course, eyes shining with excitement. He still looks a bit worn down from earlier, but He's strong enough to make it through the rest of the day, he thinks. Sicheng is pressed up to Lucas' side, hanging off the arm that isn't gesturing wildly. He looked like a small child tugging uselessly at his mother's sleeve, repeating "I want to go home," over and over. It's cute.

Johnny is sitting in a lotus position in the grass, legs folded like a Jacob's Ladder, back perfectly straight and eyes closed. He appears to be meditating, but he very well may just be asleep. That left himself and Taeyong, both of whom were standing by a nearby tree, shoulders brushing. It's as close as they're willing to be with Taeil here. Ten couldn't honestly say he minded being open about their relationship, but Taeyong was downright terrified of whatever he thought Taeil would do to them. 

That's why even though they were together, Taeyong was looking anywhere but him. It was equal parts frustrating and endearing—if only because he was doing such a bad job at pretending there was nothing weird about the lack of space between himself and Ten. He was practically leaning on him, at this point. Regardless, between the merciless sun and the not-enough contact with Taeyong, Ten isn't sure he'll survive today's checkup.

The course goes well for the first few parts. Ten finishes the race first, and he's nimble enough to hop through the tires with relative ease. Johnny is close behind him the entire time, and he never realized how terrifying a sprinting Johnny could be. 

It falls apart at the third section, which turns out to be one of the puzzles in the form of a single card slotted in between a piece of peeling tree bark. 

Doyoung calls it a 'lateral thinking puzzle' (to which Johnny responds 'Stop trying to sound smart,'). Ten doesn't really have a chance to understand what the fuck he's supposed to do before Doyoung, Johnny, and Taeyong put their heads together and discuss the given scenario. It's the closest he's seen Taeyong and Doyoung together without them being at each other's throats. 

Lucas and Sicheng watch from afar awkwardly, not really understanding either. He realizes that only two people in the home aren't foreigners; it's a wonder they're able to communicate with each other at all. Eventually the three of them group together and wander around the premises of this part of the course, waiting for Johnny and the others to reach a conclusion.

Ten is poking around the flora when he notices an uprooted fern lying pathetically on its side. Scanning around the dirt, he finds the base of it some feet away. He sees other plants in similar conditions, and realizes they form a path. He moves to tell them about his discovery, but they're voices start raising at the same time.

"Do you seriously have to shoot down every single idea I have?" Taeyong is demanding. 

"Taeyong…" Johnny says in warning, but is completely ignored. Doyoung tosses the card to the ground, moving into Taeyong's space. 

"Are you seriously so self absorbed that me just disagreeing with you is a personal insult?" he fires back. "I don't know why the fuck I still bother with you. It's a miracle you ever found someone willing to suck you off." 

Ten thinks he should blush, but he knows none of the focus is on him right now. Taeyong shoves Doyoung backwards with a rough palm to his chest. He catches himself with a few steps backwards, but he's still glaring Taeyong down, ears turning pink with rage. 

"Take it back," Taeyong growls. His fists are clenched at his sides, and Ten feels like he's watching the moments before a car crash. He's hoping so damn hard that Doyoung will deescalate.

"Get the fuck away from me," Doyoung spits. 

Doyoung dodges the first swing, swiftly grabbing Taeyong's wrist in the moment it's flying through the air. He shoves him backwards, but Taeyong is quick to lunge at him again, landing a solid punch on his cheek that sends him to the ground. Doyoung kicks out suddenly, tripping Taeyong and sending him flying into the dirt. 

Doyoung is still disoriented, so he's slower to raise his body, and because of it ends up pinned to the ground with Taeyong's weight on him.

"Are you fucking insane?" he grits out, managing to throw him off. He grabs the opportunity to stand, but he nearly falls again, just barely catching himself on a nearby tree. Taeyong, fast as lightning, rushes at him again, but this time there's the telltale  _ woosh  _ of a flame coming to life and a bright flash before his palm connects with the bark of the tree. Doyoung just barely rolled out of the way in time, frozen in terror at his narrowly escaped demise. 

It's the terror on his face that spurs Ten to motion, before he even realizes he's moving. He grabs Taeyong's elbow, the one with orange highlights from the flames licking at his wrist, around his fingers. 

"Taeyong,  _ stop, _ " he says pleadingly. Taeyong turns to face him, and for a moment Ten thinks he's going to be shoved away, but he pauses. 

"You want me to just let that go, after he disrespected you?" he asks. There's an edge to his voice that Ten doesn't like. 

"I don't need to to defend my honor, Taeyong," Ten says, matching his tone. He regrets the way it comes out, he's not supposed to let his feelings get the best of him, but right now he's starting to see red. Has Taeyong always been this insolent?

"Then who is?" he demands. Ten is vaguely aware of Doyoung being ushered away by Lucas, but his vision is narrowing in on Taeyong exclusively, and it's hard to tear himself away. "You're sure as hell not going to do it yourself. You're too soft to stand up to anyone." 

"Then what the fuck am I doing right now?" Anger thrums under his skin, a low hum that wants to be indulged. 

"Butting into things that aren't your business, like you always do. Why can't you just piss off like everyone else?" 

That's when Ten slaps him. Taeyong's head jerks to the side at the impact, and he's momentarily shocked. The flames on his hands are casting a flickering light on his face, and Ten is suddenly aware of the sweat on his neck, dripping down onto his shirt. 

Taeyong moves before he can see him, his flaming hand burning through the fabric of his shirt and onto his skin—there's no pain yet, and he thinks he hears someone shout, but everything turns to black and he sinks. 

//

Lucas and Sicheng are sitting in his room when Ten wakes up. When he tries to turn his head, something scratchy moves against the skin of his shoulder, and it burns. He shifts his arm, trying to find leverage to sit up, and it's sore—so are his legs, his chest. Everything hurts. 

His head is swimming, but the railing on the bed is different, and the angle the light pours in the room is different. The walls are smooth and shiny. Wariness and anticipation curl up in his chest. His mother or his sister will come soon, ask him why he did it. The doctor will come and ask him how he's feeling, then  _ why  _ he feels that way, and he thinks he's going to be sick. The burn of stomach acid in his throat is so familiar a feeling, he's almost willing to speed up the retching process. 

But Lucas and Sicheng are here, that's different, too. They're asleep with interlaced hands, Sicheng's head resting on Lucas' shoulder. It looks uncomfortable, but his face is peaceful. And where's Taeyong? 

Ten freezes, his memories taking the opportunity to sort themselves out. 

Korea. 

He's in Korea, not Thailand. He hasn't been in Thailand for months. He lets out a breath, and the motion of his chest causes the bandaging to move again, and there's pain. A hand, decidedly Taeyong's, pushes itself to the forefront of his mind. 

Right. They got into a fight. Ten remembers that. He remembers crying, he remembers rage. He remembers a terrible, terrible infatuation that made his brain short circuit. And then, something that felt like falling, but it couldn't have been because Taeyong was still holding onto him. And now he's in a hospital. 

The door to his room opens. Taeil enters holding a clipboard, shuts the door gently behind him. 

"You're awake," he says. Ten just looks at him. Right. Here it comes.

"How are you feeling?" he asks when Ten doesn't answer. His voice betrays nothing but a kind of forgiving professionalism, which is the same thing as condescension as far as Ten cares. 

"Disoriented," he answers. Taeil nods, then writes something down. 

"Johnny tends to do that." He seems to notice Ten's confusion, so he continues, "Johnny stepped in during your spat with Taeyong." 

"He knocked me out?" Ten raises a hand to his face, expecting to feel a bruise. There's nothing he can find.

Taeil huffs a laugh. "No—that's not what I meant. They never told you?" 

Ten shakes his head. He has no idea what Taeil's talking about. 

"Johnny is one of our supernaturals. He can make anyone lose consciousness at will." He pauses to let Ten process that—which he doesn't—then continues. "It's valuable, but occasionally uncontrollable, and sometimes lethal. I brought him to Seoul from Chicago so he could live his life in a calmer environment." 

"Would that explain the narcolepsy?" 

Taeil barks a full on laugh at that. "Yes. We're still working with him." 

So Johnny is a supernatural. Taeyong must be, too. 

"But Ten, what happened yesterday at the home could've been a lot worse than it was had it not been for Johnny. You can't allow Taeyong to rile you up so quickly. As much as I hate to say it, he isn't safe." 

"Are you giving this same speech to Doyoung? It was his fault as much as mine." Ten grumbles. He knows he's just bitter, but he can't help it. Taeil seems sympathetic, anyway, and doesn't call him out on it. 

"It's different with you and Taeyong. You know that. I know that. Taeyong's feeling's aren't your feelings." 

He blushes, and he's annoyed that others can read him like that. It's hypocritical, he knows, but— _ whatever.  _ It doesn't matter.

"Can I see him?" 

Taeil shifts. "The Company hasn't come to a decision on that yet. When they do, we'll let you know." 

Dread pools in his stomach, washing away any irritation he has with Taeil. He lets his head fall back on the hospital pillows.

//

In the end, Taeyong stays. Johnny is outraged at the decision.

"You can't let them stay together, Taeil! he had pleaded. "Taeyong could have  _ killed  _ him. And Doyoung, too!" 

Taeil simply watched him argue his case from the piano stool, sitting cross legged and prim on the bench, with the air of a mother that thinks she knows best. Ten, deep down, agrees with Johnny. He can't control himself around Taeyong, as much as he enjoys being around him. It's too dangerous. 

He was the first to return from the hospital, which he didn't quite understand considering Taeyong had taken the least damage, but he was too exhausted to ask about it. He hadn't even made it to his own room, preferring to plop right down on the couch beside Lucas. He had manoeuvered Ten's head to lay on his lap, petting his hair slowly, and he thought the intimacy was a bit unprecedented, but he found that he needed it. Some kind of comfort, security. He felt like a complete asshole for thinking Taeyong would change for him. 

"I can't override the Company's decision, Johnny," Taeil says serenely, as if consoling a wailing child. "The phenomena between Taeyong and Ten is too unique to abandon; they want more studies done, more information."

"Even if it puts them at risk? If it puts  _ us  _ at risk?" Johnny presses. Taeil adjusts his posture, never once taking his eyes off Johnny. He smiles, something so disgustingly fond that Ten blushes. 

"Yes, Johnny. You knew that when you signed the papers to come here." 

Johnny deflates. "I know." 

Taeyong comes home some days later. Ten keeps his distance, per Taeil's suggestion. He misses him, but he was too close to the flames during the last check-up; figuratively and literally. Lucas and Sicheng keep him company well enough to take his mind off Taeyong, for the most part. They teach him some Chinese phrases and let him help with their garden, and it feels mostly okay. 

He thinks Doyoung and Johnny have gone into hiding, but one day he and Sicheng find them sitting with Taeyong by the river chatting amicably, and he thinks, hopes, that they might turn out fine after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> -the song that taeyong plays is francisco tárraga's gran vals, which is the nokia ringtone. its a beautiful piece, go listen to it  
> -i REALLY wanted ten to find johnny asleep in the music closet but i had a guide to stick to...tragic  
> -minutephysics has a video on why its impossible to tune a piano, watch it if you want your life to be ruined  
> -i didnt mean for taeyong to literally be bakugou it just...happened that way haha
> 
> i started writing this over xgiving break last year. happy to have finished it! it was heavily inspired by hoshatree (marchmain)'s fic Second Life, id heavily recommend it! urban fantasy bops 
> 
> i flip flopped between this having a darker/happier ending a couple times before settling on something a bit more hopeful. ten and taeyong have an abusive relationship and i didnt want them to stay together even though i really enjoyed writing this dynamic. thank you for reading!
> 
> i wasn't super into NCT when i first started this (pretty sure i was lucas biased at the time dhkfgds), a few months later i want to have a mini supernatural power fic for everyone in nct/wayv he he..........


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